Page 33 of Adversary to the Villain

“What on earth?” She sat up, startled when the mist surrounded the wound, the colors meeting, overwhelming her with relief she didn’t understand. It was warm. Safe.

The dagger on the nightstand began to glow, too, shaking like it was trying to find where the other bit of magic within it lived. After Otto Warsen had terminated her position by attacking her with a magically imbued dagger, Evie had never thought to ask what sort of magic it was.

Perhaps she should have.

Because the moment the dark, mist-like magic touched the glowing array of color on her back, it became…sentient.

No. No. This is wishful thinking. Like the time you thought the shriveled grapes in the bunch would be offended if you didn’t eat them along with the others.

But the notion became significantly harder to deny when the magic twirled about her hair, pushing it up and out in ridiculous directions. “Knock it off!”

The mist shook in…laughter? Or her hallucination was growing more tangible. Both were entirely possible. She willed it back to her, begging it to bury itself within her skin once again, but it resisted, and she felt the tug like a painful jerk against her heart.

“Stop. Please!”

On her gasp, the mist swarmed back to her, disappearing beneath her skin in an abrupt collision that sent her reeling into the headboard with a hard smack to her skull.

“Deadlands!” she yelped, tumbling from the bed to her knees. “What in the—”

She was cut off by the light shining brighter, so pure that everything halted. Time moved slower; her heart relaxed to a dreamlike pace. Her skin felt alive, and all the pain was gone. It did not hurt to breathe any longer, to remember all she had lost.

The light whispered her name gently. It tossed her hair about and tugged on her wrists, pulling her to standing, leading her to a world where no one hurt her, where there was only love about.

And this time, some of it was for her.

Cool stone pressed against the soles of her feet, drops of water sliding down her face, sensations of wind in her hair. Her troubles were leaving.

Past the stairs, past a painting, past a door, until the walls around her disappeared.

Her family’s home. The one before Massacre Manor. And her family sat at the table, eating, laughing. Her father, Griffin, was standing at the head of the table, kissing her mother’s cheek before grabbing another roll and tossing it to Gideon, who tore it in half and handed the other to Lyssa. They were happy.

Tears burned in Evie’s eyes. They werehappy.

And there was an empty chair for her.

“Come, hasibsi.” Her mother waved her over with a warm twinkle in her kohl-lined eyes. “Your food will be cold.”

Evie approached cautiously, hope swelling in her chest. Had it all been a bad dream? Her life before this.What was that again?

“Evie dear,” her father said. “Might you do me a favor and go upstairs to grab the spinning wheel? I wanted to fix it for your mother after we eat. Darn thing isn’t working again.”

That was it? That was the only price she need pay for this reality? Approaching the stairs she’d climbed up every night to retire, then down to start her day, she paused, mesmerized by the candles lining the banister. She could feel herself float above the first step, prepared to take another. Her foot raised for it, hovering closer and closer.

How lovely it would be to—

Don’t do this, Evie.That quiet voice that had been within her for the whole of her life was commanding her now. The only consistency she could rely on.

Griffin Sage stood, his face still warm, as kind as he’d always been, nodding toward the stairs. “Go ahead, darling.”

Evie felt something pulling at her mind, but she could not find it, not when everything was floating about in confusing ways.

Don’t fall for it a second time, Evie.

She staggered, feeling an odd drop in her stomach when she teetered forward, blinking until a rush of thoughts stacked one on top of the other.

Don’t doubt yourself, Evie.

Don’t let them win, Evie.